Vignettes of Ruin and...

Entropia Libra (the Inevitable Descent into Chaos)

In The Nightmare, Wrath on August 4, 2011 at 10:48 am

“You choose the destination,” he said, “and I will build the ship. I will make sure it is provided before. I will look after our little family.”

I was so used to working alone that it was an alien notion, to not have to be that way anymore. At first, it was uncomfortable. Relinquishing control and being only responsible for oneself can be a difficult thing.

“Are you sure?” I was tentative, naturally suspicious.

Because nothing has ever been this easy.

“I’m sure,” he said with conviction, and I believed him. And so he began to cut the wood and assemble a solid ship with unexpected artistry.Yes, Vincent worked hard for his sobriety. I could see him struggle until with practice, he became so good at it, I couldn’t see him struggle any more, and I forgot much of what had passed. After enough time, we uncovered the threads of stray dreams and bound them once again to our ship. A new home beside the sea, we said. We wanted it once, maybe we could have it now. He even rescued a little puppy from a life of abuse and declared him ours: his shining little life, inexplicably unmarred by his suffering, became our beacon, our hope that yes, new beginnings were possible.  We slipped from the overcast loom of perilous cliffs upon the summits of which we once played our parts, caught between wanting to drag ourselves to safety, grasping fistfuls of cool dark earth and wanting to fall, down, down, down onto the jagged rocks below. Or perhaps wanting to watch each other fall. But those days were long gone. We set a course for that not-so-distant shore and allowed a carefree breeze to uplift our patchwork sails and carry us over unknown, but calmer seas.

The Age of Vice was in decline.

Spectoris- who was that? Substantia: I never heard of her. Apathia fell unconscious. The reign of Intoxicatus seemed well and truly over, more like a tired nightmare churned out by Obscura than something that really happened.

I just didn’t need them anymore. I enjoyed the peace. I liked the silent anonymity of these new purgatorial waters, that seemed to promise heaven.

But this transient gift of solitude only served to enslave me for the wanting of its permanency. All complete things must eventually become undone. Even mountains crumble over the vast reaches of time.

He turns on me. And he isn’t drunk. All this time, I continuously overlooked one vital thing, and that was his prescribed duty to Medicatus- the God of Anti-Depression.

How many gods do I have to face down before I just simply give up?

I gaze back longingly at the calm turquoise wavelets while I seek out something to hold on to. But I am too late as our so called ship is pitched into the heart of a violent vortex of rage and suffering. Vincent is suspended above me, condemning me and scathing me with words that have just enough truth in them to throw me into disarray. I lose my footing and am hurled across the deck. The sea I loved has turned on me and tries to drag the ship down into its underworld. The waves lash me but I do not let them claim me, as I hang steadfast to the edges. Below, the sea churns with foam, the vestiges of mermaids who lost their own battles in the dark grey of a merciless ocean.

Then it all stops- for a moment. The dogs huddle together, bedraggled and miserable. I am crushed by my guilt, my Culpa Immortalis. It is my fault the ship ended up here. My fault. I am to blame. I look frantically around for Vincent, but cannot see him.

Because he has become something else entirely. The temporary peace is demolished as a colossal Leviathan breaks through an oceanic portal and surges towards the heavens. The ship is plunged underwater, but just as quickly, it is freed from the watery enfolds, and raised above it. I manage to get back on my feet, wondering how this is possible, when I realise the ship is ensnared in the serpent’s tail. But it has only saved us so it can bestow a more cruel fate. It starts to squeeze. I look into the face of the monster and search from some tangible trace of Vincent’s humanity, something I can reach out to in its eyes. But it just seethes at me through narrowed yellow slits and intensifies his devastating assault on our ship, until its seams splinter and burst with deafening cracks and there is nothing left beneath me as it all disinitegrates into the open, roaring mouth of perdition in the waters below.

I awaken to a soundless world where the scattered debris of Before lays strewn about. I pull myself up and begin to pick my way through it, unable to make sense of anything or perhaps more truthfully, not wanting to.

I walk and walk until my feet blister and every step causes a burning pain. Hot tears I did not know I had in me roll down my dirt streaked face. A sob escapes me. This place is so devoid of life and so full of silence that I should discover I still have a voice seems strange to me. I feel so ready to give up. I sink to my knees.

It is then I become aware of being watched and as I raise my eyes, I am taken aback by the sight of a woman, so pristine and perfect and shimmering, I think she is perhaps a mirage.

She steps forward and opens her hand, and I see myself as I am now, kneeling, tired and filthy in the centre of her palm. In her other hand, I am as she is: calm, clean and content. Then she closes her hands and turns them over. My heart begins to pound as I try to discern her meaning. I am about to question her when all that falls through her fingers is warm dry sand that is carried away on the wind like smoke and dust.

It doesn’t matter where I am, where I run to, what I achieve or do not achieve. The end is the same.

Entropia has nothing more to say to me. I have survived the descent into chaos, from which I must now derive the embers of order.

With great difficulty, I get up once again. I can salvage something from these ruins. I always do. In the distance I see a dark figure slumped in the sands. Vincent has yet to open his eyes. When he does I imagine his hurt and fear to find me gone.

But even as I think it, I have already started winding my way towards him.

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  1. Wow, what an incredible journey through our subconscious and conscious states of descent. I throughly enjoy the way you write which creates such a visceral visual intepretation to merge with. Thanks for the wonderful writing. I know I need to spend more time reading your work.

    Stop back by my blog and check out the work I’ve done lately…especially my “In the Lightness of Being Blue” post, if you have not already. In some ways it may bring to mind the blueness of being lost at sea.

  2. very haunting and powerful … it feels like perseverance is the only thing which the Gods cannot defeat.

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